Author's Note: Hello, we have an extra long chapter for you today and we get to start getting into some of the various character's heads. Also, as a heads up, there is one section from an OC's perspective in this chapter. I promise his role in the story will be minor, but he has a skill set that the rest of the team lack.

Chapter 3 - To Wait

An hour-long battle seemed to be over in an instant…a ten-minute wait for the medevac proved to last an eternity. To Steve, it was almost like the wait to see if Stark would pull off a miracle and return through the space portal during the battle of New York…only worse because during that particular incident he at least had the power to delay closing the portal. Here, at this moment, all he could do was wait.

Every fiber of Steve's body was screaming at him to fight and protect his team, but to do so right now would only fluster the medical staff and if their concerned glances were any indication then they really did need to keep their focus on Barton. This, unfortunately, gave him time to think and wonder how in the world the Avengers could fight an entire army of alien warriors and walk away from the conflict relatively intact, but the villain of the week could manage to know two of his men out of commission.

"We must trust the healers." Thor stated placing a warm hand on his shoulder. The Asgardian had stuck to Steve's side like glue ever since he had managed to arrive at the scene. He was a comforting presence even though the 'god' was practically vibrating with nervous energy.

"True, I just wish I knew what was going on."

"Even if the healers explained it, I doubt that we would understand it." Thor tilted his face up to the sky and settled his weight against a nearby building. "They have a magic all their own."

Steve wanted to say more. He wanted words to fill the uncomfortable quiet…he wanted to act…instead, Captain America froze. He stood still and watched as those who were qualified tried to save his teammate's life. Only when the quinjet landed in the UN plaza did Steve find a job that he was qualified to fill. He became the muscle needed to gently carry Hawkeye and the board he was strapped to into the aircraft. In the quinjet, Steve discovered that he was once again useless.

The flight to Avenger Tower only took moments. How Dr. Banner had managed to get Stark up to helicopter pad at the top of the building was beyond Steve's comprehension, but Stark lay half curled and still in his Ironman armor next to the landing pad as they made the final approach to Stark Tower. Getting Stark into the Quinjet had required Steve and Thor hauling him upright and manhandling him into the space. It was a tight squeeze but they managed to maneuver the wounded hero around where Clint was strapped down and settle him on the deck behind the pilots. Dr. Banner came up behind them and with oxygen tank.

"I've got him. He is stable" Dr. Banner practically growled at the medics has he helped nudge Stark into the recovery position. "Focus your attention on Hawkeye."

"Is there anything I can do?" Steve asked, and Dr. Banner looked him straight in the eyes before giving a sharp nod.

"Help me keep him awake and distracted."

The quinjet took to the air and a strangled cry slipped from Stark's lips as the deck plating jerked under them. Steve managed to keep him from sliding, but he looked "Painkillers?"

"I can't get an IV into him until we have been able to make a dent in that armor. And even if I could, any opioid based medication will probably more harm than good right now. Any painkiller that would numb the burns would be powerful enough to will reduce his cardiac output and respiration further." Bruce scrubbed his hand across his face, unwilling to make eye contact with the team leader.

"I've…en through wor…out meds." Stark slurred, his words muffled by the oxygen mask which he was trying the fiddle with.

"Stop playing with that, you need it." Dr. Banner gently pulled Stark's hand away from the mask. Stark glared up at the Doctor, but his eyes held no venom only pain and exhaustion which only heightened Steve's protective instinct. Banner, on the other hand, seemed completely calm, splitting his attention between his patient and a tablet which he used to communicate with JARVIS. As breathing got more difficult, Banner took over more and more of the conversation. Doing his best to keep Stark awake and focused, Steve occasionally tried to interject some useful tidbits but felt utterly unqualified.

"Shock and exhaustion are starting to catch up with him." Banner explained quietly as they started on final approach, as he spoke Steve couldn't help but notice how his teammate's eyes flickered over Hawkeye's limp form. "But luckily we have been able to keep his oxygen and blood pressure within safe levels. It will make it easier for the medical staff to get him stabilized."

Upon landing on the helicarrier, the Quinjet was lowered into one of internal bays and as soon as it was pressurized the medical staff descended on the aircraft. Clint was on a stretcher and moving before Steve had a chance to blink. Transporting Stark proved to be more challenging. In his Ironman suit he was far too heavy for a medical stretcher but someone had managed modified a section of rolling lab bench carry him. The engineer hadn't made a peep as Steve, Thor, and Banner had lifted him onto the cold metal surface, but the way his breath became more ragged and he squeezed his eyes shut that the move caused him agony.

Once Stark was loaded the three superheroes stepped back to give the medical staff room to maneuver. Then Steve, Thor, and Dr. Banner moved to follow the medics, but they found their way blocked by a stern looking Agent Hill.

"Give the medical staff the room they need to treat your team."

"But…" Steve tried to protest as he watched the pair of stretchers rolling across the deck.

"I will personally make sure that you are informed the moment there is news." Agent Hill moved to force Steve to look into her grey eyes. "For now, make sure that the rest of you get something to eat. The last thing we need is for one or more of you to pass out and give the medical staff more things to do."

"Understood, ma'am." He had been given an order, and as much as Steve didn't want to follow it at the moment, it was also a relief to have someone who was willing to take on the mantle of command.

Space was at a premium on the helicarrier, and as a result, the infirmary waiting area was painfully small. The fact that Dr. Banner didn't do particularly well in small places was well known by the rest of the team, so they decided that it would be best to wait for news in the large laboratory that was unofficially Starks domain on the ship. The floor to ceiling windows helped to lower the feeling of claustrophobia, the fact that Thor was pacing through the space like a caged tiger didn't.

"Thor could you hold still for a moment." Bruce groaned thirty minutes later when he simply couldn't take it any longer.

"Dr. Banner, is everything alright?" Steve looked up from the copy of The New York Times he was currently reading, a very concerned look in his eyes. "Do we need to call one of the doctors?"

"Everything is fine." Bruce slowly kneaded his temples. "It is just watching him pace back and forth is kind of giving me a headache."

Thor ended up apologizing, then perching himself on one of the tall laboratory stools. Less than three minutes he was taping his foot against the metal so loudly that the rest of the team was slowly going mad. But even as Bruce began debating the going to his rooms and finding his noise canceling headphones couldn't find it in his heart to blame Thor for the situation. Thor had never been a person who could hold still, especially when he felt that action should be taken. The entire team was rescued by when one of the white coated medics peaked into the room.

"Do you have anything to report?" Steve asked, his voice polite, but his posture ramrod straight. The poor member of the medical staff seemed to cower in response. For a few moments the team held their breath expecting the worst. Then he spoke, well more mumbled.

"I am sorry sir, but could you please repeat that? We were not able to understand you the first time." Steve posture softened.

"They are both alive. I do not have much more information than that." The kid, they way that he was currently starring at his shoes made it Bruce difficult to concerning them anything else, rushed through the message. "Dr. Banner, the surgeon would like you to scrub up."

"But I am not that kind of doctor…" Bruce let the statement hang in the air.

"He would like you to join the engineering team." The youth's eyes flicked towards him nervously, as though he expected Bruce to decline the request. "There will be two teams working on Dr. Stark this afternoon. The engineering team will focus on removing the suit while the medical team will be treating any injuries found underneath said armor."

"I am not kind of doctor either."

"Bruce, don't shoot the messenger," Steve commented calmly. "Don't worry Bruce is always tired and grumpy after transformations. We apologize for him."

"I wasn't trying to and I am not overly grumpy. I was just pointed out the facts." Bruce glared at their team leader. "And I didn't say that I wasn't going to help, I was just pointing out the fact that I am probably not qualified to be helpful."

No one listened to his argument, and Bruce found himself being guided through the labyrinth of hallways and bulkheads. Finally reached a door marked 'Medical Staff Only.' It was one of five secondary entrances to the medical bays, and was usually only used for emergency drills and laundry. Inside the hallway changed from the metallic gray of the rest of the vessel to bland, sterile white.

Bruce was somewhat embarrassed to admit that he had never been in the inner sanctum. His unique biology protected him from the types of injury that usually affected the rest of the team. He also never had physicals on board. This was due to the fact that most doctors seemed to prefer to take blood samples of body measurements in rooms that provided escape hatches through which they could escape.

"Dr. Banner, we need you to change into this pair of scrubs. After that Keith will help you scrub up for surgery." With that his med tech guide disappeared through the hallway, leaving Bruce to struggle into his scrubs. He was about to start washing his hands in the oversized sink, when a voice behind him startled him.

"Are you familiar with the protocol, sir?"

"Sort of, I haven't scrubbed into an actual surgery since I finished residency." It wasn't completely true, as a scientist Bruce knew a thing or two about keeping things sterile. Still it had been years since he had scrubbed for anything more complicated than giving stitches. "Keith is it?"

"Yes sir."

"You might as well walk me through the steps." Bruce tried to be kind but it was difficult to not wince at the formality. It was clear that the helicarrier's medical staff didn't particularly trust him.

Keith was a very precise individual and his instruction showed it. Soon Bruce had scrubbed his hands and forearms in the hot water until the sink was pink and slightly raw. He was handed a mask and tied it in place. Then he followed the scrub tech through the door into action.

When Bruce entered the surgical bay, he honestly expected the worst. He expected blood and chaos. Instead, he found Tony Stark lying on his side on sturdy looking metal table. He was still in nearly full armor and he was still clearly awake, but at least his color was better. Stark looked up from the tablet he was working on, and with a small finger wave greeted his teammate.

"Hi Bruce, good to see you are willing to help."

"He's still awake!?" Bruce could stop the words from spilling out of his mouth.

"Yes he is still awake and he currently has a massive headache so will you please keep it down?" Stark commented with an exaggerated whine in his voice.

"But they are keeping you conscious during surgery!"

"Dr. Banner if you do not quiet down we will have to ask you to leave." The tallest and most muscular of the surgeons was glaring at him, clearly unhappy with the latest development.

"But…" Bruce tried to interject.

"Would both of you two just shut up? I am the one in pain and thus I am the only one allowed to whine about the current situation." Stark sharp retort silenced the operating room. Once all of the attention was fully centered on him, he spoke quiet worn voice. "And goodness sakes Bruce, it is not like I haven't been awake during major surgery before. Enough small talk, let's…let's just get this done."

"Alright." Bruce took a few deep breaths to calm himself, then focused on the problem at hand. "Where do we start?"

Tony Stark began to walk the team through the pain staking process of removing the suit one screw at a time.

For being an organization which worked with superheroes, aliens, and technology that shouldn't exist, SHIELD was surprisingly anti telepath. SHIELD probably restricted the number of telepaths on staff because SHIELD couldn't successfully keep secrets from them. Unfortunately, this complicated the life of Dr. Nicolas Cunningham and he was a man that didn't particularly enjoy having his life complicated.

Dr. Cunningham was an empath, which gave him the ability to sense the emotion of those he came into physical contact with. While he was technically on staff to be one of the psychologist team and analyze agents' mental ability to go into the field¸ SHIELD was starting to use him for a host of other smaller tasks. His least favorite of these tasks was determining the extent of brain damage and determine brain death in agents injured in the field.

"Agent Barton is prepared for the procedure." The nurse had a look of pity in her chocolate color eyes.

"Thank you, I will be there in a moment. I just need a few more minutes sorting through the files."

The nurse padded away almost silently leaving Dr. Cunningham with the cold hard facts of the medical report. He had already read it three times, and things didn't look good for Agent Barton. While in the field he had been shot with an unknown weapon which caused him to fall off a multi-story building. He was caught by a fellow team member, but that teammate had determined that Agent Barton was not breathing. Rescue breathing was applied as quickly as possible, but the damage was most likely already done.

It was a simple fact that the brain was a needy organ. Without a supply of oxygen the brain begins to die. In normal conditions permanent damage begins to happen approximately six minutes after the lungs stop taking in oxygen. If the person is exceptionally healthy, like most of the SHIELD agents, their hyperoxygenated blood might give them an extra two minutes.

Unfortunately for Agent Barton, it appeared that his body ran out of oxygen. His eyes reacted, but sluggishly. The rest of his reflexes were non-existent and the Agent wasn't even capable of breathing on his own. The prognosis looked so bad that they hadn't even bothered with an EEG and simply called Dr. Cunningham in order to determine if life support should be pulled and Agent Barton should be allowed to die.

Dr. Cunningham took a breath to center himself and then he walked down the hall to the ICU. There was only one patient in the bay, which meant the man on the respirator had to be Agent Barton. He forced himself to look, to focus on the person before him. Then, with a nurse as witness, he reached out and touched his palm to the man's forehead. He steeled himself to come in contact with the flashes of a brain too damaged to run the body it was housed in...or perhaps the emptiness of a soul already departed. Instead, he was greeted by an overwhelming wall of fear and pain. Instinctually he snatched his hand away, almost as though he had been burned. After, taking a few breaths to steady himself he placed his hand back on Agent Barton and tried to make sense of what he was feeling.

"Hello. What do we have here?"

"Doctor?"

"This patient is not brain dead. In fact, I think that he is fully intact." Dr. Cunningham cocked his head to one side.

"Doctor what is it?" The nurse was clearly becoming more concerned.

"I also think that he is hearing us." At his words Dr. Cunningham felt a strong rise of emotion…it had to be hope. Agent Barton could hear them, and now he felt hopeful that they could find a cure to his current situation. "Nurse, we need an expanded blood toxin screen. Agent Barton needs some form of pain medication. While he appears to be completely paralyzed, his nerves are still active."

"But the head physician said that Agent Barton was brain damaged, and even if he is suffering from paralysis he shouldn't be feeling anything."

"There is more than one type of paralysis. Some types, particularly those involving drugs, are not painless. I believe that Agent Barton is suffering from the latter situation."

"If his condition is caused by an unknown drug that we can't give him any medication until we know what it is. Otherwise, the drug interaction in his bloodstream could kill him."

"Then you better get started on a better tox screen." Dr. Cunningham pulling out a pen to begin taking additional notes.

"I can't order that Sir."

"But I can. From this point, Agent Barton is my patient and I am ordering the tests. If anyone has issues with that, send them to me."

The nurse stomped out, clearly unhappy with the situation. Dr. Cunningham couldn't blame her, he was a physiatrist and thus he really shouldn't be dabbling in this type of medicine. Still, a doctor on staff had been ready to flush this man's life down the drain simple because he couldn't think out of the box. Someone had to step in and give Agent Barton a fighting chance to live. He flipped open the chart and quickly reviewed the few personal details it contained. He softly took the Agents hand and spoke in the clear, gentle voice he cultivated for working with civilians suffering with PTSD.

"Clint, I know that you can hear me and I need you to listen to me. I am not a telepath, but I am an empath. That means that I can sense your emotions when I am in direct contact. I know that you are scared and I know that you are in a lot of pain right now. I can't give you anything to help that until we figure out what is wrong." Dr. Cunningham soothed. "But I promise we are not going to give up until we have figure out what is going on." The feeling of worry just deepened, and Dr. Cunningham realized that Agent Barton was not worried about himself, instead, he was trying to figure out what happened to the rest of his team."Right now, you need to stop worrying about your team, and start focusing on your own recovery. I know that is hard, but I am going to do my very best to make sure that you get a team visit."

As Nicholas left, he couldn't shake the feeling of helpless that his patient was feeling.

Endnote - Figuring out the medical set up on the Helicarrier was a bit challenging, but I decided to base it off the medical bays in real aircraft carriers. In this case, I am copying the USS America because I could find the best pictures/description of how the spaces were organized. As a result, the helicarrier has a relatively large pre-op zone with room for up to seven stretchers, two operating rooms (one that is designed to take on major/trauma situations and the other one used for day to day procedures such as elective procedures and stitches). The carrier also has a three bed ICU which will be quickly taken over by the Avengers and about 25 additional dedicated medical beds. In an emergency, the medical staff can turn the adjoining crew quarters into additional beds for casualty overflow. In addition to the critical care spaces, the helicarrier also has a full x-ray set up, a medical lab, a pair of dental offices, and a handful of rooms used for routine examinations/checkups. I suspect that after this experience Tony will be making significant changes to the design to make it a bit more comfortable of patients.

Next Chapter - They weren't called the Avengers for nothing. With two of their number in the ICU, Natasha is called out of the field and the hunt for answers begins.